TO A DANDELION.

Blessings on thy sunny face,

In my heart thou hast a place,

Humble Dandelion!

Forms more lovely are around thee,

Purple violets surround thee,—

But I know thy honest heart

Never felt a moment's smart

At another's good or beauty,—

Ever at thy post of duty,

Smiling on the great and small,

Rich and poor, and wishing all

Health, and happiness, and pleasure,

Oh, thou art a golden treasure!

I remember years ago,

How I longed to see thee blow,

Humble Dandelion!

Through the meadows I would wander,

O'er the verdant pastures yonder,

Filling hands and filling lap,

Till the teacher's rap, rap, rap,

Sounding on the window sash

Dreadful as a thunder crash,

Galled me from my world ideal

To a world how sad and real,—

From a laughing sky and brook

To a dull old spelling-book;

Then with treasures hid securely,

To my seat I crept demurely.

Childhood's careless days are o'er,

Happy school days come no more,

Humble Dandelion!

Through a desert I am walking,

Hope eluding, pleasure mocking,

Every earthly fountain dry,

Yet when thou didst meet mine eye,

Something like a beam of gladness

Did illuminate my sadness,

And I hail thee as a friend

Come a holiday to spend

By the couch of pain and anguish.

Where I suffer, moan and languish.

When at length I sink to rest,

And the turf is on my breast,

Humble Dandelion!

Wilt thou when the morning breaketh,

And the balmy spring awaketh,

Bud and blossom at a breath

From the icy arms of death,

Wilt thou smile upon my tomb?

Drawing beauty from the gloom,

Making life less dark and weary,

Making death itself less dreary,

Whispering in a gentle tone

To the mourner sad and lone,

Of a spring-time when the sleeper

Will arise to bless the weeper?